Genemesis [LOWWC]

He stared vacantly at the floor of the monastery atrium, trying desperately to dismiss the anxiety by
focusing on the swirling patterns in the pristine marble tiles. The atrium had been Brother Josah’s place of sanctuary for 23 years now, frequently
making use of its vastness and simplicity as a retreat from the persistent visions.

He referred to them as “visions” when speaking with Brother Salius, the monastery’s counselor and resident psychologist, but they both knew that
these were more than mere visions. Josah had shared with his counselor the emotional agony caused by the episodes; the migraines, the nausea, the fear
of insanity, and the dichotomous chaos of a mind divided.

As Josah sought solitude in the atrium over the years, he often wondered how the others with his condition had managed; but over time it become
painfully apparent that all the others had met their inevitable demise. He would occasionally read about them on the World Wire; mostly suicides, but
sometimes just a regression into madness as they attempted to live normal lives out there, in the real world.

It was not a difficult choice for Josah to join the Brotherhood; in fact, it was what kept him alive, helped keep the insanity at bay, and kept the
other from destroying him. The first to recommend this life of retreat was the Chief of Research at the Genetic Reproductive Synthesis Center when
Josah was just 17. Now, as he sat slumped in the corner of the atrium almost blinded by a crippling headache, Josah felt like a faint shadow of his
young self as he recalled the conversation.

“Our studies are now conclusive, and it’s only a matter of time before you become like the others, Josah,” the Chief gravely spoke.

“There must be something they can do to break the link? I can’t live like this. I can’t live my life hearing what he’s thinking, feeling what
he’s feeling when I don’t want to.” Head in hands, the young man looked up desperately at the Chief for any sign of hope.

“You were synthesized from one of the earliest harvests, before the GRSC had perfected the process. Our group yields were much smaller then, often
only three or four embryos would survive from each synthesis group,” the Chief said distantly. Josah got the feeling this was not the first time the
Chief had had this conversation.

“You must understand,” he continued, “We had no idea a symbiotic pair would form from group yields of two, and our researchers were under
tremendous pressure from the Chancellor at the time. The wars had halved the population, fertility rates in all the territories were falling rapidly
from the chemical fallout, and the predictive simulation models were bleak. Human reproduction was failing and extinction was imminent within two
generations if the reproductive synthesis program failed. Your condition is an unfortunate result of pushing the GRS program forward before the
process was refined enough for the larger group yields we have today. Some corners had to be cut to sustain the human population.”

The Chief took a sip of his tea, pausing with the pretense that appropriate words would follow. “In some of the earlier cases like yours, we tried
stronger and stronger suppressants to dull the link, but the side-effects were too severe. Our science is simply not advanced enough to understand how
the link develops, let alone how to defuse it. We just know it only exists in synthetic group yields of two, and most of the adverse symptoms you are
experiencing are exclusive to the recessive of the pair. “

“So he doesn’t suffer the same symptoms? Can I find him, talk to him? What if there’s something he can do to make it stop, to break the
link?” asked Josah. “There has to be… I mean, what if…”

“Wait now,” the Chief interrupted, “I must warn you. I’ve personally reviewed your records and the other was the heavily dominant of the
genetic pairing, and although he may be aware you exist, he will not suffer as you do, nor can he do anything to relieve the symptoms the link causes
for you. I would advise against making contact. Any relationship between pairs has always resulted in, quite frankly, tragedy.”

“ What do you mean, exactly?” In his youth, Josah was confused by this as the symptoms had only recently arisen, triggered by hormonal changes in
late pubescence. Only later, after many years of suffering, would he understand all too well what the Chief was referring to.

“The human mind is not meant to feel divided, experiencing its own internal emotions juxtaposed to an external source with equal or greater
intensity. The chemistry of the human limbic system is simply not designed to handle the link. Many of the recessives of symbiotic pairs have gone
insane, their minds torn apart by living two lives with emotions perpetually diverging, one in the physical present, the other a shadow-world of
inexplicable thoughts and feelings.” At this the Chief shuffled in his chair, the first exposition of any discomfort thus far. “Those that have
made contact in an attempt to find some resolve, well, you see there is an overwhelming desire to end the agony by whatever means necessary. In
such proximity, the impulse to kill the other becomes, well, uncontrollable and all-consuming. Our strongest instinct as humans is, unfortunately, the
animalistic desire for self-preservation.”

The Chief’s words fell heavy on Josah’s ears, and his utter despondence prevented him from voicing the inevitable question. What if the
other were to die? Would the malady cease? For a moment, he felt a burning anger at his distant oppressor, but it quickly dissolved into a dull
bitterness at the crushing injustice of such a random fate, followed by a piercing migraine that left his ears ringing.

Crouched and wincing in pain, his will deflated, he could only muster the final question. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

The Chief looked down and saw the imploring eyes of a child, lost in a sea of directionless fear, and could no longer restrain his countenance’s
transformation to a look of pure pity, the way a man looks at his dog who has gone lame.

“I advise you to seek a life of passivity and seclusion from normal societal interaction, where the effects of the link and his dominant thoughts
will be minimized. Perhaps under a self-imposed mental quarantine the divisive nature of the link and subsequent damage to your psyche can be
contained, and the ensuing madness delayed for as long as possible.”

And so Josah’s exile in the Brotherhood began, accepting this consigned fate of reclusion from the stimuli of living. As the other progressed
through life and grew physically and emotionally, Brother Josah receded further into himself, withering like a dying fruit on the vine.

With the assistance of the Brotherhood and within the confines of the monastery, this method of resignation had allowed Brother Josah to carry on. As
he stood up in the atrium, neck stiffened and ankles cracking from sitting too long in one position, he felt the heaviness of the years, a sorrow that
only comes from an entirely passive life with no purpose. How can a man endure this long and not become anything? There was never any need,
never a call to action or twist of fate that mandated him to define another path for his tormented life --- until now.

Brother Salius sat alone in the quietude of his study, deep in thought over the disturbing revelations of the
afternoon. It was late, and the monastery of the Brotherhood was silent except for the occasional bustle of the janitorial workers in the dim
hallways.

The doctor reclined in his worn leather chair, staring at the ceiling with a furrowed brow as he ruminated over his notes in the patient file on the
desk in front of him. It contained over twenty years of notes and psychological research on his most frequent visitor, Brother Josah.

He vaguely remembered the day Josah arrived at the monastery, a pitifully gaunt, disheveled specter. At the time, Salius had optimistically agreed to
treat the young man, but the treatment quickly migrated away from any hope for a cure, and instead turned into regular counseling sessions as a method
of damage control.

From there they embarked upon many years of therapy, fraught with the daily trials of a chronic condition from which there was no respite –
thousands of times he had comforted Josah in his misery, offered encouragement and sat quietly as his patient quivered in a fetal position and wept in
anguish. The notes documented the progression of the condition, recently termed Linked Pair Psychosis Syndrome by the GRSC, and detailed the grueling
effects on Josah. But more concerning to Salius on this particular evening was the personal logbook in the file, for within its pages were the
accounts of Josah’s “visions”, the vicarious experiences and constant psychic influx of unwanted emotions that were inadvertently delivered to
Josah’s mind over the accursed link to the other.

From the “visions” they had learned much about Josah’s dominant counterpart, derived intimate details of his thought patterns, feelings,
aspirations, and intentions. It was a combination of this information and the events of the day that rendered the psychologist sleepless into the
early morning hours. He pored over the logbook searching for clues, as it chronicled the last twenty years of a man neither he nor Josah had ever met
in person.

The logbook recounted the escapades of a confident and successful young man, adopted after synthesis by a wealthy and influential family, bred and
groomed for worldly greatness at the finest schools in the Western Hemisphere. After law school, the other had begun climbing the ranks amongst
the aristocrats, the power elite that quietly governed the world from ivory towers nestled in secrecy. On the laurels of a favorable and prestigious
career in finance, the ambitious neo-con finally emerged on the public scene, engaging his pre-determined destiny – a rise to power in the world of
territorial politics.

It was around the time that the other was elected head of the Trans-Territorial Senate that Josah’s condition worsened significantly. He
complained to Salius of excruciating anxiety caused by disjoint feelings that bombarded him over the link in a constant flurry. The logs described
insatiable ambition, unscrupulous greed, and a consuming lust for power – feelings that left Josah’s nervous system reeling for days as it tried
to interpret the foreign waves that infiltrated the crevices of his brain like a virus.

As the political career of the Senator flourished with increasing power, Josah’s mental health deteriorated as he retreated further into himself.
The link left him languishing for days in guilt for sins he had not committed, blinding him with sorrow for people he had never met, finding little
success in separating where reality ended and the dark soullessness of the link began. Eventually, Josah scarcely left his quarters, emerging only for
his scheduled sessions with Salius and his visits to the atrium.

For this reason, Salius was taken aback when a surprisingly euphoric Josah knocked on the door of his study unannounced earlier that afternoon.

“What is on your mind, Brother Josah? Please, come in and have a seat.” He motioned to the recliner, closing the door softly with the other hand
while trying to read the abnormal exuberance of his patient.

“I am sorry to impose, but I have a matter of urgency that I must speak with you about.” Josah fumbled with his robes as he perched on the edge of
the recliner. The euphoria Salius initially perceived quickly gave way to overt agitation.

“Do you recall our session last week, when I described to you a shadow looming in his consciousness, a dark patch that he has been trying to conceal
in the corner of his mind?” asked Josah.

“Yes, you said it felt like a black cloud, a hovering threat of the unknown. We discussed the possibility that this was your own subconscious fear
of him, reflected and amplified by the link. Has it worsened?” Salius flipped through the pages of his notes, trying to recall more details.

“It has been growing, the visions intensifying, and the ominous feeling of a hidden evil occupying my thoughts constantly – until last night. I
was able to pierce this void, and I have determined the source of this strange blackness,” he said with a look in his eyes that was difficult for
Salius to decipher.

Salius leaned forward in his chair, closed the file in front of him, and folded his hands with a nod. “What did you see?”

“He means to seek the high office of Chancellor of the Western Hemisphere. In fact, he already knows he will be successful. He has many friends in
powerful positions in the Eastern Territories, this we have known for awhile. But now I have seen that their wealth will guarantee his election, at a
price.” Josah lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. “He has agreed to implement their plans once he becomes Chancellor, but in secret his pride
will not submit. He is far too proud to be a puppet. In the blackness of his mind he intends to betray his benefactors. His desire for power has
become a sickness that even he can no longer control, and as Chancellor he will have the means to bring about his vision for the world.”

At this, Salius looked away from Josah, staring out the window as he contemplated the possibilities if this were indeed true. “Go on, please,” he
said calmly.

“As commander of the armies of the Western Hemisphere, he intends to destroy the entirety of the Eastern world. He will falsely orchestrate a
threat, then launch a merciless assault, sparing none. He believes this to be his destiny, to centralize all global power with him as the demigod of a
new world.”

But Salius was shaking his head. “How can you be certain he will commit these acts, that he is capable of such destruction? Perhaps your visions are
just delusional fantasies buried somewhere in his subconscious mind?” he asked. “Every human being has a dark side. You can see his; it does not
mean he will act upon it.”

“Listen to me!” exclaimed Josah, suddenly jumping to his feet. “I tell you I have seen it. I know the future he intends as Chancellor. He
can no longer control his thirst for power and destruction.”

For a moment, Brother Salius considered that it was actually Josah who was delusional, that the stress on his mind had finally pushed the psychosis to
the next stage. He gently pointed out to Josah that his mind, in a desperate attempt to alleviate the symptoms of the link, may have fabricated a
scenario whereby the other was the embodiment of evil. The men argued for awhile, but Josah remained adamant, assuring Salius that they must
take action and warn someone. “We cannot allow this to happen,” pleaded Josah.

But in the end, it was Salius that brought the discussion back to the reality of the situation, and ultimately to a close. “I believe you, Josah,”
he said wearily, “but unfortunately, no one else will. There is nothing we can do about it. We have sworn our oaths, and our place is with the
Brotherhood.”

Josah sat crookedly on the uncomfortable seat in the trans-territorial monorail car, hearing the last words
of Brother Salius echo in his head. The words resonated as he gathered his sundries for the twelve-hour journey to the capital city; they taunted him
as he slid the letter under Brother Salius’ door before dawn, and beckoned him to reconsider as he bought the monorail ticket at the station near
the monastery.

“Our place is with the Brotherhood,” he had been advised. Yet Josah knew he would never be able to resolve his conscience if he did not attempt to
prevent the catastrophe he knew was nigh. The dull hum of the monorail field generator was surprisingly comforting to him, and he felt a faint sense
of peace as the train raced toward the rising sun.

As he squinted from the glare of the sun through the thick cabin plexiglas, he recapitulated that it was not necessarily peace he felt, but a sense of
purpose. For years he had yielded his essence to the flood of surrogate life billowing from the link, foregoing a self-directed existence in an
attempt to minimize the pain of his brutal fate. But now he felt as if his true fate had been revealed, his dormant will renewed, as he raced toward
the morning horizon.

During the night, Josah had oscillated feverishly between fear and courage, finally deciding that if he did not act quickly, the potency of the recent
visions might fade. Also, once the Senator took the high office, making contact would be nearly impossible; so Josah reasoned that he must depart
immediately, his only regret that he did not say farewell to Brother Salius in person. With fond thoughts of his counselor and friend, and the warmth
of the sunbeams heating the monorail cabin, Josah drifted off into a tranquil sleep.

He awoke to the pulsing of the monorail braking system, and the blaring voice of the woman on the intercom. “Attention passengers! This stop: New
Paris Central Station.” Josah gathered the few items he had brought along, shaking his head and blinking rapidly to clear the imagery he had been
receiving over the link as he slept.

He had considered changing into civilian clothes before his departure, but thought the formal robes of the Brotherhood may decrease any suspicions,
and ease his access to the Senator. Josah already knew all the streets in the central city, he had seen them through the eyes of the other for
years. He even knew the security codes to the Senate office complex; he had vicariously watched the codes punched in hundreds of times. He smiled as
he considered the irony; the accursed link, of all things, was the primary tool for him to succeed in his purpose.

He walked as casually as possible through the streets as dusk neared, concealing his quickened pulse and growing anxiety while he approached the front
gate of the complex. Once inside, various men in expensive suits nodded or bowed to him as he glided through the hallways; it was not uncommon for
members of the Brotherhood to meet with politicians concerning matters of the Church, and the Brothers were treated with a certain formality and
respect.

As he neared the Senator’s office, Josah could feel the full effect of proximity on the link. His temples throbbed and his vision blurred from the
strength of the signals. He paused as he reached the Senator’s office door, tried to breathe steadily for a moment. He could feel the presence
beyond the door. He punched in the security code and turned the handle.

Upon entering, he cautiously took a few paces down the corridor, stopping fully at the entryway to the lavish office. In the corner, behind the desk,
there stood a tall figure looking out the large bay window with his back to Brother Josah. The room was silent but for their breathing and the distant
sound of the train leaving the central station. Josah’s temples pulsed with each palpitating beat of his heart, his nervous system in a frenzied
panic of chaotic signals and errant biorhythms.

Josah tried to speak, but nothing came out. There came a loud laugh, it bellowed and filled the room as the figure turned around to show his face,
harsh with couched aggression. The virulent look in those eyes pierced Josah’s retinas, and he nearly staggered as his temples burned from the
proximity to his symbiotic nemesis.

“I always knew you’d be coming, brother,” grinned the Senator with a look of both excitement and relief on his brow.

“Fate would have it no other way,” replied Josah as he slowly reached beneath his outer robe to reveal the dagger.

They locked eyes and stared for a few moments, as if performing an ancient, unspoken ritual. Then, as their gaze broke, from each came a deep breath
and a quiet sigh as they closed the distance between them, unified at last in an inevitable flash of violence.

Mind links are not new to fiction but your premise and execution of it is better than I've seen in published works in a very very long time. I
don't mean to be negative of other entries in this contest, but your story is much more in tune with my own personal taste in fiction. Josah was a
very well developed character with enough depth to make him real. The story was also very exciting which is key for any fiction I'd choose to buy.

In the spirit of constructive criticsm. It may be entirely due to the fact that this genre is amongst my favourite and one that I have consumed and
watched masses of, but the moment your protagonist stated:

“There must be something they can do to break the link?"

I knew exactly how the story would unfold and what the final scene would be. I can't immediately think of a suitable solution to delay the reveal
though. And anyway perhaps the vast majority of readers wouldn't catch on as early as me. I'm not allowed to speak when watching movies with friends
because I always guess the twists within minutes of the start and am able to spot seemingly inconspicuous items or events that turn out to be key
later on.

I also think that it was a very astute move to leave the ending somewhat ambiguous. Josah may have had a weapon but the chancellor could have too,
and I'm sure part of his elite upbringing would have involved becoming expert in various forms of violence, self defence and martial arts.

One other point. You stated early on that the other person in the link may know of your protagonists existence. Additionally, the GRSC knew of the
propensity for such a link, and they recommended monastic life for Josah. This hints that tabs may have been kept on his whereabouts by GRSC.
Wouldn't it be inevitable that GRSC and the monastery have both been infiltrated and come under the control of the elites? Wouldn't the elites have
bumped him off early on just to cover all their bases?

I only have these things left to say. So few flags, so few comments, yet lot's of stars. I share the cynicism you have expressed elsewhere.

Good luck with the contest. For me so far its between you and Subace.

PS. I'd really appreciate some real criticism on my entry if you get the chance.

First, thanks for the insightful feedback. I am glad you enjoyed the story and thankful you took the time to provide some observations.

I agree that there are several 'reveals' that may offer too much too soon for avid readers of this genre. Given the relative complexity of the
storyline, I struggled a bit with the flow of revelations. When I delayed specific information, other passages made too little sense.

Also, regarding a more macroscopic view of the world in which the story takes place, there certainly are some questions that would have to be answered
for the sake of viability. The referenced "power elite" would certainly be keeping tabs on the GRSC and the symbiotic counterpart of the soon-to-be
Chancellor. If the story were expanded into a novella, greater composition challenges would lie in wait.

Again, thanks. I will be revisiting your composition and provide any thoughts I may have when I catch a break later this evening.

I'm still upset that this story has got six stars for each of the chapters but only three flags. What does that suggest? And where are all the
comments?

I've been thinking about this story quite a bit since yesterday. A possible reason for the elites to keep the protagonist alive as well as others like
him could be for harvesting spare organs. You could even have an entire monastery of spares for different elites where they are monitored to ensure
they treat their bodies well. Elites coud deliberately seek out pair bondings for this reason. After all we all know they are obsessed with life
extension and eventually want to be able to transpant mind/consciousness. Of course this idea isn't unique and has been done very well before, but it
could be worth looking at as a justification for not bumping him off as a child.

Additionally, I believe you are a writer with greater skill than dan brown and his clones, However, there is a danger, though admittedly small that
this story once expanded could nudge in that 'pulp' direction. I'm sure you ar a better helmsman than that but I felt it worth mentioning.

edit
on 24-2-2013 by merkins because: Formatting

Edit to add: did you choose 23 years because of The 23 Enigma? If so kudos. It's a phenomena that has a daily prescence in my life and has been around
for much longer than Jim Carey's poor movie. See the fnords!!!

Originally posted by merkinsreply to post by InTheFlesh1980
This needs a bumpity bump!
...
Edit to add: did you choose 23 years because of The 23 Enigma? If so kudos. It's a phenomena that has a daily prescence in my life and has been
around for much longer than Jim Carey's poor movie. See the fnords!!!

Thanks for the bump and the comments.

Yes, I chose 23 for that reason. It has nothing to do with the story, but I enjoy including small references like that.

On another note, I thought about including some confirmation that Josah's inclinations about the Senator were correct; however, as the story ends the
reader does not know for certain. It is entirely possible that the diabolical plot for the future was a delusional fabrication that Josah had created
in order to justify an attempt to kill his "oppressor". The dialog exchange at the end confirms their link, but could be interpreted to mean that
Josah's looming psychosis had finally come to fruition.

Anyhow, as my first attempt at writing in years, I am pleased enough with it for now. Thanks again.

I think as a short piece you definitely could go down the road of delusional fabrication, but as a longer piece or a script I think there's a
possibility of the reader/viewer feeling cheated after putting in the time to watch or read.

Wow if that's the first thing you've written in years I can't wait to see your next story. It's been a few years for me too.

I love putting 23 and other similar references in my work too. Before I was warned to dumb down my work by my lecturers, i used to encode 23 and other
things such as pi or the fibonacci sequence into my work. i used to see them as little easter eggs for my astute readers. However, I was frequently
criticised for requiring my readers to have prior knowledge to 'get' all the extra stuff. As far as I'm concerned the best work always has layers
of meaning.

Wierd fact, this saturday 23rd, in the morning for health/disability reasons I had to call in the Rapid Response Team because I woke up unable to
move. Then by the evening I was well enough to go see the greatest singer song writer in the world right now and my second fav band. I came home drunk
and did some drunk posting which I thought I'd grown out of, so I just signed on worried about what I may have written. Something always happens on
the 23rd for me, luckily this time it was good as well as bad.

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